


The Renegade Angels

by LauraEMoriarty, potionsmaster



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Game 3, M/M, Memories, Slow Burn, Twinverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-02-09 11:12:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12886653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraEMoriarty/pseuds/LauraEMoriarty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/potionsmaster/pseuds/potionsmaster
Summary: Aoife Shepard is used to being on her own, solving her own problems, and marching to the beat of her own drum. That includes dealing with the consequences of her actions on her own, too.  Sometimes, though, she swears she has a guardian angel looking out for her in the oddest of ways.Little does she know how far her angel's influence goes.





	1. Memories Gone By

**_The Renegade Angels_** , by LauraEMoriarty and potionsmaster

Rating: M 

 **Chapter 1:** _Memories Gone By_

 

***

 

_Citadel 2183_

 

She leaned on her elbows, the railing cold and hard even through her hoodie. The _Normandy_ was truly a sight to behold, what with the sparkling darkness of the galaxy behind her.  Beautiful...Aoife hunched her shoulders and let the hood practically fall in her face; the overly large hoodie was like a security blanket sometimes.  Made her not feel so lost when she was wrapped up in it.

 

“Fancy seeing _you_ here,” a low, raspy voice teased playfully as an elbow nudged her ribcage before sliding themselves next to her and leaning against her.  “What’re you doing this far in an Alliance port?”

 

She whipped around, annoyed, to stare at whomever had the sheer nerve to approach her like that and leaned as far away from them as she could.  To her shock, Kaidan had a smarmy little smile playing on his lips.  Then the penny dropped when their eyes locked.

 

“--the _fuck_ , LT??  Whaddya mean, _fancy seeing me here_?  Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

 

“Shit!  I’m sorry, Commander, I-” he stammered, standing up and snapping a quick salute. “I didn’t know it was you. You, uh...reminded me of someone.”

 

“At ease, Lieutenant.  Must be quite a ‘someone’...” Aoife laughed, pushing the hood off her head and standing up straight. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you willingly get that close to anyone before.”

 

Devious satisfaction at seeing his ears turn bright red bloomed in her like a dark flower.

 

“Yeah, you could say that, I guess,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.  

 

“Just _who_ did you think I was? Some lover of yours? Yeah.  Nah. Not me,” she grinned at him, a teasing gleam in her eyes.  The fact that the blush had spread to his cheeks was all the answer she needed.

 

“No offense, Commander, but yeah.  Definitely not you.  Don’t get me wrong, I like adventurous women, but...you might be a bit _too_ adventurous for my tastes.”  He leaned comfortably on the railing next to her, staring out at the expanse of stars.  This time there was a definite space between them. “Not to mention the no frat regs.”

 

Aoife rolled her eyes. “You know how I feel about the regs,” she said, leaning against the railing again and looking out over the roiling city below them. “But yeah, I’m probably a bit too much for you to cope with,” she added, returning the earlier favor by elbowing him in the side. Kaidan grunted at the impact but didn’t try to block it.  Probably felt like he deserved it, knowing him.  She ran a hand through her dark hair, twisting the ends of it around her fingers absently.

 

“Heh.  He’d probably say after dealing with him, I could handle just about anybody,” Kaidan replied quietly, more to himself than anything else.  She furrowed her brow, processing.

 

“... _he_?”

 

Kaidan’s ears tinged pink again as he stared off in the distance, pretending he didn’t hear anything.  Aoife turned around and leaned her elbows on the rail again; it really was too cute how he embarrassed he was.

 

“Yep…” The color spread down the back of his neck and across his cheeks.  “He.”

 

“Nice!” she smirked, elbowing him again before putting him in a headlock. “Didn’t think you had it in ya!”  She ruffled his hair before he could duck out from under it.

 

“Alright, alright, Commander, enough.  I gotta have some secrets, y’know?  And don’t touch the hair...”

 

“I can _so_ touch your hair,” Aoife made a move as though to ruffle his hair a second time, but at the last minute, stopped herself. “Congrats, though. I’m happy you have him. Whoever the hell he is.”

 

The pink intensified.  He bit his lower lip and rubbed the back of his neck again.

 

“Thanks...It’s not really that serious, I guess, but it’s nice to know someone gives a damn out there.  Someone to come back to.”

 

“Might be a _little_ serious, LT.  Given your reaction.  No worries, I won’t blab.” Aoife crossed her fingers behind her back, and gave Kaidan a saucy wink.

 

“Thanks.  I, uh...appreciate it.  Not that it’s a huge secret or anything, but I try to keep my personal life separate from my professional as much as possible.  Less likely to get hurt.” He quirked an eyebrow at her.  “I get the feeling the entire ship will know anyway by breakfast tomorrow.  Couldn’t tell you why.”

 

“Do you honestly think I’d blab? It’s not my secret, Kaid, it’s _yours_.”

 

He gave her a sidelong glance as he pushed himself off the railing.  

 

“Hm.  I want to say, ‘does a bear shit in the woods?’ but I know you are, in fact, more than capable of keeping secrets.  I think you just pick and choose the ones you do.”

 

Aoife winked at him. “Damn. You got me on that one,” she said, laughing softly. “Though seriously, it’s not something I’d go distributing on the Normandy Newsletter--let alone leaking it to the rabid varren known as Khalisah al-Jilani.”

 

“Well, thanks for that.  The last thing I need is Ash breathing down my neck for details and Tali asking for the _really_ intimate details.”

 

Aoife laughed. “Yeah, not gonna happen. I’m not Rita Skeeter, and nor am I an animagus.”

 

“I...don’t really know what those are, but I’ll take your word for it. Want to get a bite to eat?”

 

“What? You’ve never read _Harry Potter_? Blasphemy! But sure, we’ll get something to eat, and I can tell you all about the wonderful time we’re going to have once I introduce you to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.” Aoife smiled warmly, her green eyes full of mischievous laughter.  Her staff lieutenant rolled his eyes and they started to walk back to the elevator.

 

“C’mon.  I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”    

 

“You’re always hungry.  And hang on, back to more important matters…” She paused, eyes dancing.

 

Kaidan raised his eyebrows in expectation, hitting the call button.

 

“You mistook me for a _bloke_? In what universe do I look like a _bloke_?” He had enough grace to look properly mortified again.

 

“You don’t,” he reassured, “Just...the way you were slouched, and he tends to wear similar hoodies…”

 

She gestured to her body.

 

“And my height. Right?  I can see that.”  They got onto the elevator and she shoved him out of the way to hit the button first.

 

“Can’t put anything past you, Commander,” he replied dryly.  

 

***

 

_Citadel 2186_

 

She blinked.  The view was almost the same as it had been that day on the Citadel, except the _Normandy_ was twice the size and in Cerberus colors.  Oh--and she was in restraints this time, too.

 

The lieutenant glowered at her when she had walked down the ramp, spine stiff as she felt his disapproval radiating off him in intense waves. Her green eyes focused on a spot in the distance, where the Alliance recruitment poster with her likeness had been defaced. She winced at the words scrawled in a messy hand that proclaimed her to be a traitorous cunt, unfit to lead. She held her head high as the cuffs were placed on her wrists like some common scum, but accepted the due process that had to happen. Hackett had made it clear to her when he had boarded after the disaster of Aratoht and the destruction of the Alpha Relay that she should expect the charade they now performed for the benefit of appeasing the batarians. In truth, she felt the weight of those deaths more keenly than she cared to admit, but the farce had some merit.

 

She had long ago forgiven the batarians for what they had done to her home, forcing her into the grand diaspora of displaced humanity in the galaxy. Yet she also felt keenly for the loss of all those who had died in the Bahak System, all those deaths, and still she dreamed of Reapers. They were coming, and the galaxy wasn’t ready--not by a long shot. The dreams invaded her sleep, torturing her and making her wake in the night, bolting upright in bed, chest heaving from fear. The Council and the Alliance both seemed to ignore the true threat they faced in order to bury their heads in the sand and pretend that all was normal.

 

“Well, Commander,” the officer said, and Aoife met his brown eyes squarely.

 

“Don’t call me that,” she said softly, brokenly. “I don’t deserve that title after what I did.”

 

“I’m not supposed to salute you, either,” he said, but did it anyway.

 

"Don’t,” her voice sounded old, even to her ears as she flinched.  Aoife felt like Atlas, with the immense weight of the world on her shoulders. Except, in her case, it was more the weight of the billions of lives she had destroyed in order to buy time. Time the galaxy would squander, given that nobody believed her. Anderson might, and Hackett, but nobody else--the Council sure as fuck didn’t. Even though her reinstatement as a Spectre had been granted, she knew it had only been Anderson’s good word that had kept her status intact.

 

“You still outrank me,” the burly lieutenant mumbled.  “But I wouldn't salute you if I didn't respect the hell out of you.”

 

“Still, it doesn’t excuse what I’ve done.” Aoife said quietly, eyes not meeting his. She couldn’t look _anyone_ in the eye without feeling exposed anymore, where her soul stood waiting in judgement and be found wanting. How many times during her tenure with the enemy had she unwittingly done wrong, believing she served the greater good--whatever the _greater good_ was. She stood mutely as they cuffed her arms and legs, offering no resistance. She felt tired, utterly weary of everything and everyone.

 

He took one of her arms and gently led her away from the _Normandy_. The farce must continue, and she had no choice but to play her part to the utmost of her ability in the long months to come. It frustrated Aoife that the Council buried their heads in the sand, and that the Alliance believed her, but couldn’t act on her information without appearing to condone what she had done.

 

The reporters crowded around her like hungry goats, bombarding her with question after question. She remembered how the goats would mob her on Mindoir, their desperation for whatever she had in the bucket outweighing any sense of human boundaries. Reporters differed little, except they didn’t stick their heads into the bucket on her arm, but they had the same hunger.

 

“I’m not talking,” Aoife muttered, as the lieutenant shielded her from the worst of the scrum. “Leave me alone.”

 

“You heard the lady,” he announced, pushing them through the crowd.

 

“Thanks,” she said in a small voice. “I doubt my usual tactic of charging through them like a bull would be well received.”

 

“Good to know you can still crack a joke, Commander,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

 

It brought a small smile to her own. The thought that, even though Aoife felt she deserved the punishment the Alliance meted out to her, she could still find it in her soul to joke. As they walked, her movement impinged by the manacles, she glanced at the faces of the crowd, noting the anger and disgust on their faces. She sighed, knowing the Cerberus logo on her shirt proclaimed her a traitor. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t _truly_ worked for them, that she had been told to continue the charade while sending information back to Anderson and Hackett about her activities and undermined Cerberus’s stated mission. Due to technicalities, she didn’t really even answer to the Alliance as a Spectre.

 

“I’m not even sure I know your name,” Aoife said, as they entered the building in which she would spend the next six months at the Alliance’s pleasure.

 

“James,” the lieutenant replied, palming the door to open it. It slid open silently, and he ushered her inside. “Here we are. Home sweet home.”

 

Aoife waited as the manacles were removed, and she rubbed her wrists afterwards. Though they hadn’t been cold metal like the ones from the olden days, they still left an uncomfortable imprint on her skin. The orange glow of the cuffs dimmed as they were removed from her legs, and finally, she could sit down.

 

The steel grey linen couch with the wingback felt like heaven as she sat down on it and rested her head against the wing of the couch. She closed her eyes, the tears she had resisted shedding earlier now came fast and furious, shoulders shaking as she buried her face in her hands.

 

It had been a long time since she cried like this. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had howled her unvoiced fears to the void. Perhaps it had been after Mindoir, sitting in a therapist’s office. The same sort of despair washed over her, coupled with the certainty of the Reapers arrival. Too many paths and crossroads converged on the coming of the Reapers for her to deny it.

 

The galaxy wasn’t ready, but she was. Aoife knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they would destroy everything in their path.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Absolution is But a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Now the courtroom is quiet, but who will confess_  
>  Is it true you betrayed us? The answer is "yes"  
> Then read me the list of the crimes that are mine  
> I will ask for the mercy that you love to decline 
> 
> \-- Leonard Cohen, _A Singer Must Die_

**_The Renegade Angels_** , by LauraEMoriarty and potionsmaster

 

Rating: M 

 

**Chapter Two:** _Absolution is But a Dream_

 

 

~*~

_Five and a half months later..._

 

_The sound rang out in the valley, like a whip. Aoife’s breath caught in her throat at the sound. She gasped as thick blankets of dust swirled, and coughed as she inhaled the dust. Crouching, pulling her t-shirt up over her mouth and nose, she watched the menacing ship advancing, and felt powerless to act._

 

_“Rafe! Batarians!” Aoife shouted above the fury of the engine._

  


The nightmare flickered and flared before her-- she remembered every moment vividly. The way the dust got up her nose, the eerie, red sky and the sound of batarian gunfire, her goats bleating, horses screaming, cattle bellowing, sheep bleating--an unending chorus. The dust swirling around her ankles, and the smell of burning flesh, from somewhere she couldn’t place-- and through it all came horrendous four-eyed aliens. She crouched in the dirt, crabbing along and praying that the batarians wouldn’t notice, as the wind blew her footprints away, the dust in her eyes like gritty sandpaper, in her nose, down her mouth, into her lungs, choking her. Trying to scream, only to cough, eyes streaming. Reaching the barn, hiding in the box stall with her favourite horse, only to hear the staccato of machine guns, the sounds echoing.

 

“ _Lola. Lola_ ,” someone called her name through the fog. The voice calling her sounded vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t place it. She flailed around in her sleep, her fist connecting solidly with cartilage.

 

“Ow. _Fuck_. Remind me not to get you in a bad mood,” the masculine voice stated as he released her.

 

Aoife’s eyes flew open, and it took her a moment to realise where she was. The dim light, the soft bed, her blankets kicked down around her ankles from her thrashing in her sleep-- and James.

 

She had hit James.

 

“I thought you were a batarian,” she mumbled, struggling to break through the fog of her recurring nightmare.

 

“I think you broke my nose,” James said, fumbling in his pocket for medigel. “Again.”

 

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” Aoife touched the side of his face with her fingers, and James squeezed the tube of medigel onto her hand. She applied it to his nose, her nose scrunched in concentration.

 

“You’d think I’d learn,” James muttered, more to himself than to her.

 

Aoife sighed. “You’d think so,” she agreed as she finished applying the medigel. “Again, I’m _so_ sorry...”

 

“What were you dreaming about, anyway?” James asked, as Aoife glanced at the bedside light that had to be kept on.

 

“Mindoir. I keep dreaming about that day-- it’s my own personal Dementor,” she said, sliding out of the bed to pull up the sheets. The breeze from the fan wafted against her bare legs, and she shivered in the otherwise warm night. “I keep reliving the raid that killed my family.”

 

“Wanna talk?” James looked at her, and Aoife shook her head.

 

“Nah-- not about that, anyway,” she said, and glanced at James’s nose. “I’m _so_ sorry about your nose. That’s what-- the third time in six months?”

 

“Something like that,” he said, a wry smile twisting his handsome face.

 

“Again, I’m so fucking sorry. Like, my reaction shouldn’t be _smash me mate’s nose_ after a nightmare,” Aoife ran a hand through her hair, and sighed. She untied it and brushed her fingers through it, untangling the knots before dividing it into three strands and began to braid it. She secured the braid with an elastic band, and flipped it over her shoulder.

 

“Hey, no need to apologise,” James shrugged. “I know what nightmares are like.”

 

“I hate that I broke your nose like this twice already. Seriously, who does that?!” Aoife sighed, and put her hand on James’s shoulder. “I’m probably not gonna sleep much more tonight. Wanna help me make cupcakes?”

 

James raised his eyebrows. “At four in the morning?”

 

“Yeah. Why the fuck not? We don’t have anything to do today, aside from a pointless psych meeting with yet another psychiatrist the Alliance has hired.” Aoife rolled her shoulders and headed for the kitchen.

 

“You sure? You go from a nightmare into baking?” James said, eyebrow raised, and Aoife shrugged. “Okay then. Baking it is.” He followed her, and pulled out a stool, sitting down.

 

She pulled out flour, vanilla, sugar, and baking soda from the pantry, before rummaging through the fridge to find the other ingredients. Flicking the oven on, she set about measuring ingredients and greasing then lining the muffin tin. Letting the butter soften, she sifted the flour and baking soda.

 

“If I had my way, I’d have my sewing machine instead,” Aoife said, as she felt the butter with her finger. Soft enough. “Unfortunately, I don’t think the Alliance would let me near razor-sharp scissors.” A twist of a smile played across her lips as she creamed the butter and sugar, cracking the eggs and tipping them into a separate bowl.

 

She frowned. The yolks indicated the eggs were old, separating out into bright orange splotches. “Eggs aren’t fresh. It’ll have to do, though.”

 

“How do you know?” James asked, looking at them with a raised eyebrow.

 

“See how the yolk’s broken and spreading? Fresh eggs don’t do that. I’d say they’re about eight or so days past best use. I used to look at eggs on a daily basis, before things went to hell on Mindoir. I _know_ what fresh eggs look like, and these? I’d be pretty hesitant to cook with them if it weren’t for the fact that they’re the only eggs in the fridge.” Aoife tilted the bowl for James’s inspection.

 

“Ew,” James made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, and Aoife smirked.

 

“Yeah. It puts me off eating anything egg-related when I know exactly how old an egg is by the yolk. Downside of being a farm girl.” She tipped the eggs into the butter and sugar, beating it in with quick and practiced hands. “But, it’ll do. Cakes are cakes, after all.”

 

“Just… Never tell me about the freshness of eggs again, and we’ll be good, yeah?” James made a face, and Aoife laughed softly.

 

“Deal.” She folded the sifted flour into the eggs and butter. “No mentions about the disgusting agricultural secrets that’ve been handed down for… oh, generation and generations.” A smile broke out on her face. “I could, however, mention my absolute dislike of eggs…”

 

“So that means you eat my huevos without really tasting them, Lola?” James shot back.

 

Aoife scrunched her nose up, considered the muffin tin carefully, and started rummaging around in the drawer for a ladle. “Nah. I _like_ huevos rancheros, just not… boiled, poached, or even fried.”

 

“You’re weird, you know,” James observed. “You constantly surprise me.”

 

“Weird and surprising? Interesting-- I’m sure Kaid would agree there,” Aoife shrugged. She turned from him, having finished ladling out the cupcake batter, and opened the oven door. Carefully, she placed the tin in the middle of the oven, and set the timer, closing the oven door and turning back to James.

 

“Good thing I like weird…” he said softly.  Startled, she glanced up at him and caught his smiling gaze.  “And surprises.”

 

“I guess we make a good match, then, eh?” she replied.  Warmth spread itself across her cheeks and tips of her ears. Then, picking up the bowl, she offered it to James, sliding the drawer out to get a teaspoon. “Shall we?”

 

“Definitely.”

 

***

 

“...you have frosting on your nose,” James said, reaching over to wipe it clean with his thumb. Aoife smiled. “There, it’s gone.”

 

“So, um… Thanks for waking me up earlier-- and I’m still really sorry I broke your nose, again..” She glanced down at her hands, and then at the bowl of icing that still sat on the counter next to them.

 

“Hey-- it’s fine,” James muttered, waving her apology away. “I should know better than to try and wake you like that.”

 

“You know, um…” she glanced shyly down again, and then at the bowl. “I, uh, should go put this in the sink.”

 

Aoife picked up the bowl, which still had the barest knife-scrapes of icing left in it. She stuck her finger into it, and dabbed a tiny amount onto the tip of his nose, careful not to hurt it again.

 

“Hey, gimme the bowl,” James said, and took it from her hands. He dabbed another bit of icing on Aoife’s nose. “Now we match.”

 

“Yep. We do,” Aoife agreed, cheeks flushing pale pink as she looked up at him. She leaned her forehead against his, and their noses bumped.

 

James let out a small hiss of pain.

 

“Oops,” he said.

 

“Want me to kiss it better?”  Aoife laughed softly, a teasing note in her voice as James smiled.

 

“I’d be ok with that,” James replied, as Aoife came to stand in front of him. His hands found their way to her waist, as her arms looped around his neck. She gasped at the warmth of his hands, the rough skin of hs fingertips against her smooth skin. Their foreheads rested together, and then, as their lips parted to meet, the chiming of Aoife’s omnitool broke them apart.

 

~*~

  


She waited near the door, in her dress uniform with her Star of Terra and campaign medals on the bar. Her long dark hair braided up into a neat bun at the nape of her neck, her shoes polished within an inch of their life. She glanced towards James, who nodded his approval, and shot him a nervous smile. It’d been too long since the Alliance brass had seen her, and anxiety twisted a knot in her stomach at the thought that this meeting could either make her or break her.

 

“C’mon Commander,” James said, now dressed in his grey t-shirt and BDU trousers. “You ready to give ‘em hell in the hearing?”

 

Aoife shot him a nervous smile. “I’m _nervous_ as hell, actually.”

 

“You’ll be fine-- just give them the ass-kicking they deserve,” James winked at her, and Aoife’s stomach unknotted just a bit.

 

She took his hand, more for reassurance than anything else, and he squeezed it briefly before letting go as the door slid open to reveal Anderson, looking more careworn than he had the last time she saw him.

 

“Sir,” Aoife snapped him a salute, and the admiral smiled.

 

“At ease, both of you,” Anderson said, and James and Aoife dropped their hands, and relaxed.

 

“What’s going on out there?” Aoife asked, glancing past Anderson into the corridor. The admiral gestured that she and James should follow him, heading out into the long hallway that led to varying areas of Alliance Headquarters in Vancouver. The building bustled with activity, and Aoife felt the knot tighten in her stomach.

 

“We’ve picked up something on the long range scanners, and it’s not good,” Anderson said, and Aoife’s heart plummeted.

 

“Reapers?” she asked. “Anderson, we’re not fucking ready if it is-- not by a long shot-- not when the Council _and_ the Alliance have spent the past two years burying their heads in the sand and pretending they’re not coming.”

 

“I know, Shepard. But try convincing everyone that you were right when they won’t overlook you blowing up Aratoht,” Anderson said tiredly.

 

“I blew up Aratoht to buy us _time_ , time that’s been completely fucking _squandered_.” Aoife sighed.

 

“Try telling the Defense Committee-- they want to court martial you for that. I’ve tried telling them, but they seem so focused on that you apparently went rogue-- even if you _did_ act as an informant to me,” Anderson said, and Aoife looked up at him, seeing the scowl on his face.

 

“So it’s your good word that’s kept them from that?” Aoife quirked an eyebrow as she continued walking with Anderson, only to pause as she saw Kaidan coming down the hallway towards them.

 

“That, and Hackett’s,” Anderson agreed.

 

“Oh? I thought Hackett hated me after I killed Dr. Kenson,” Aoife commented mildly. “Good to know he doesn’t. But seriously, Anderson, we’re up shit creek without a paddle, life vest or flotation device. Are we expecting--” Aoife broke off abruptly as she spotted Kaidan.

 

“Admiral, Lieutenant.  Shepard...” Kaidan said, acknowledging the three of them with a smile that faded a bit as his eyes landed on her.

 

“Kaid,” Aoife said, but broke off abruptly when his smile faded.

 

 _He still hasn’t forgiven me for Horizon_ , she thought. It grieved her to know they had left it in a bad place, and she still hadn’t replied to the email he’d sent her after their terse meeting on Horizon some months earlier.

 

“Major,” Anderson said warmly.  Their hands met in a firm shake.  “How’d it go in there?”

 

“Ok, I guess.  Hard to know...I’m just waiting for orders now.”  He looked uncomfortable.

 

“Major…?”  Aoife tried to keep the hurt and confusion out of her voice.  Anderson blinked at her.

 

“You hadn’t heard?”

 

“No, I hadn’t…”

 

“Sorry, Shepard.  It’s been…well...”  Kaidan shifted a bit in his uniform, clearly trying to hide his distress.  The ramrod-straight back and tensed shoulders gave him away.

 

“That’s ok, _Alenko_.  I’m just glad I bumped into you,” she replied softly.  Maybe he was feeling just as upset about the way they left off.  

 

“Yeah...me too.”  

 

“Shepard, come on.  They’re expecting us.”  Anderson strode off, not looking back over his shoulder and she had to jog to catch up.

 

“... you know the Commander?” she heard James ask as she and Anderson continued walking.  Kaidan’s reply came through rather clearly.

 

“I used to.  A long time ago,” Kaidan said tightly.  The chamber doors slid shut with a ‘swoosh’ just then.

 

The knot in Aoife’s stomach tightened again as she saw the full bench of Alliance officers and civilian personnel. This rarely happened: in all the years she had been Alliance, she had never seen the room packed as tightly as it seemed to be today. She gulped, trying to suck in air as the anxiety mounted.

 

 _No, I will not have an anxiety attack_ , she told herself firmly. Looking around, all she saw were hostile faces, hostility written in their posture, in the way they held themselves. _This is so unfair. They’ve already decided I’m guilty_.

 

“Commander Shepard,” the white-haired woman with her hair scraped back into a bun, her features harsh and unforgiving.

 

For a wild moment, Aoife considered running away. Instead, she fixed the woman with her own hard stare, green eyes meeting those pale and unforgiving blue eyes. As though challenging the Alliance official to blink, Aoife held the woman’s gaze, her head raised in open defiance of all those who thought she should be meek and humble.

 

 _Fuck that_ , she thought savagely. _These poor fucking bastards have no fucking clue what’s in store for them._

 

“Do you know why you are here?” The white haired woman asked, and Aoife pictured someone else- toad-like features, obsessed with pink, wearing hideous Alice bands. For some reason, the woman reminded her of the physical embodiment of Dolores Umbridge.

 

“I’m assuming it’s not for my witty repartee,” Aoife shot back. She cocked her head to the side, squinting. “Or maybe it’s because I’m the only damn officer in the Alliance who’s spoken to Reapers in the past… It could be that,”

 

“Your glib tongue, Shepard, does you no credit. Do you rea-” The woman’s voice was cut off as Aoife gasped, extending her arm as she pointed.

 

“The Reapers are here.” Aoife said, and watched as the others turned to see the Reapers descend.

 

In a moment, all hell broke loose.

 

Aoife ducked and missed the beam that obliterated half of the room. The deafening boom rang out clearly, and she winced at the high-pitched ringing in her ears. The concrete and plaster were destroyed, the glass shattering into millions of tiny fragments. Some were embedded in her skin, and she ducked low as the beam aimed again.

 

“Shepard, over here!” Anderson called out, and Aoife strafed carefully towards him. He handed her a submachine gun, and she took it, feeling the sleek grip under her hand as they both ducked once again. “We’re going to the _Normandy_. Just follow me.”

 

She had no time to check the gun properly, as the first wave of husks swarmed. She aimed and fired, charging into them with the full force of a vanguard’s charge. Her biotics sang on her skin as she lifted and threw husks into one another, like they were pins in a bowling arcade. Dashing towards where Anderson led, Aoife heard him.

 

“Anderson to Normandy, do you copy?”

 

Aoife didn’t hear the reply, as husks continued to swarm, dropping from the sky like black burning raindrops. She kept steady pressure on the trigger, firing long bursts, before her thermal clip maxed out.

 

 _Fuck. No choice but to use these_ , she thought, as her biotics surged to life. Charging, throwing, lifting, and supernovas were the order of the day, and she alternated between them as she continued to outrun the husks.

 

“Anderson, where’s the _Normandy_?” she asked, as she caught up to him, and they enjoyed a moment’s pause in the battle. “Is she coming for us?”

 

“I’ve not been able to raise the _Normandy_ ,” Anderson stated, grim-faced and tireder than Aoife had ever seen him. “There’s a downed gunship not far from here. I’ll try radioing them from there.”

 

Aoife ducked as another wave of husks came crawling out of a sewer and opened fire on them. She grappled with one husk, throwing it to the ground and stomping on its head. Another charged her, she caught its arm, and her biotics buzzed and hummed on her skin as she felt the power surging to life, drawing it down and into her, she pushed it out with as much force as she could.

 

All the while, Anderson continued to call the _Normandy_ in the background. Aoife didn’t have time to wait, she just kept pushing and pushing, harnessing the dark energy in her biotics, using it in ways that Samara and Jack had taught her. They were being swamped, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold out, as she felt the power draining away from her with one last biotic charge.

 

“I can’t,” she panted, “keep up,” another deep breath as she gulped down air, “with this…” She pushed with all the strength she had left, and then she heard the sound of salvation. Gunfire, and the Thanix cannon. She silently sent a prayer blessing the designers of the original Normandy, and the builders of the SR-2.

 

“The cavalry has arrived!” Aoife glanced up to see who had spoken, and a grin spread on her face. Kaidan, James, and someone she vaguely remembered as Cortez. All of them sported identical assault rifles, and all of them were firing as she made a run for it.

 

“Go!” Anderson gave her a shove. “Get help, and Commander? Consider yourself reinstated.” He threw her dog tags towards her, and she caught them with one hand, her fingers wrapping around the cold metal.

 

James caught her arm and pulled her up, and she flashed a smile at him. She glanced back over her shoulder to see Anderson growing smaller and smaller as the _Normandy_ gained altitude.

 

“I’ll be back-- with every fleet I can muster,” she promised Anderson as the door to the cargo bay closed, and her final vision of Anderson showed him surrounded by husks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Aliases and Secluded Spaces

**_The Renegade Angels_** , by LauraEMoriarty and potionsmaster

Rating: M 

**Chapter 3:** _Aliases and Secluded Spaces_

 

***

 

_Eden Prime 2186_

 

Rafe lounged on the couch in the cramped common area of the little apartment, leg slung over the arm and chewing his bottom lip as he scanned a datapad.  The tiny lines of code he was running through were starting to make his eyes hurt from squinting, but he needed to go through them.  Eden Prime was a target for his former employer and he needed to figure out why.

 

“Scowl any harder and you’ll intimidate the information we need right out of it,” Miranda teased, pouring herself a cup of coffee.  He quirked an eyebrow but didn’t stop reading.

 

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he grumbled.  “We both know you’re better at the cold detachment bit.”

 

“Yes, but you’re _much_ better at ‘complete sociopath’...” she said, sipping her coffee.

 

That earned her a hard look before he went back to scouring the datapad.  She laughed as she slid onto the couch next to him.

 

“We do what we must in order to survive, Miss Lawson.  Any longer with you and my accent will come back.”

 

“Would that be so terrible? I’ve heard it before.  Nothing wrong with it.”

 

Rafe fixed her with another exasperated look and placed the datapad on the crate they were using for a coffee table.

 

“Hard to infiltrate if you have a distinctive signature about you.  Not like _you’d_ know…” Miranda laughed at him and he deftly pulled the coffee mug out of her hand, blowing on it before he took a sip. “I worked hard to lose it, you know.”

 

“Mmhm.  Quite a feat, considering.  You were how old when Cerberus picked you out of that batarian slave encampment?” She put her feet in his lap and toyed with a lock of hair, cocking her head to the side.

 

“Sixteen.  Almost seventeen by the time Cerberus caught up with us…” Rafe carefully sat the coffee mug next to the datapad and took one of her feet, rubbing strong circles over the arch.

 

“God, what did I do to deserve you…” she murmured, head tilting back.  “It really would be easier if we could just...love each other.  Make it so much simpler.”

 

“It would be, but I’m not known for taking the easy way on anything.  Just ask my -” he pursed his lips a moment.  “Yeah.  Anyway.”

 

Miranda laughed at him again, pulling her head upright.

 

“You’re due to talk soon, yeah?  How long has it been?”

 

“At least a month.  He’s been running around after his students, last I knew.”  He switched his hands to her other foot, digging his thumbs in slightly as he worked.

 

“Rafe Malone, dating a teacher.  How domestic...I never would have guessed.”

 

“I told you, I’m using ‘John Shepard’ right now…”

 

“Mmhm.  ‘Course you are.”

 

“What?”

 

“Bit on the nose, but if you insist.”

 

“I do. And I’ll have you know that my domestic god of a teacher could kick your ass.”

 

She laughed again and gently punched him on the shoulder.

 

“I’d like to see him try.  Shame he couldn’t teach _you_ anything more.  You could use the help…”  

 

He rolled his eyes.

 

“Give over, Miri, I am perfectly comfortable with my level of biotics.”  They both started at his omni-tool glowing orange.  The chime indicated a priority call, encrypted source.

 

“That him?”

 

Rafe pinched his lips together and the tips of his ears flushed.  She laughed again and got off the couch.

 

“That’s a ‘yes’.  I’ll give you privacy.”

 

“Thanks…” he muttered.  He waited until he heard her door swish shut before he activated it and was happily surprised to find it was a vid-call.

 

“Hey, babe…”

 

“Hey!  I miss you.”

 

“Yeah, I miss you, too.  Wish they weren’t sending me all over the star system, but you know how it goes…”  Kaidan shook his head tiredly.  “I’m just waiting for orders now.  Wanted to hear your voice.”

 

Warmth spread from the pit of his stomach outwards at that, familiar ache in his chest.

 

“It’s good to see you again, Kaid.  Been too long.”

 

“Yeah...tell me about it…” he rubbed the back of his neck.  “One of these days, I’ll get some shore leave.  Then we can carve out some time.  Just the two of us.  If you can manage it, I mean, I would never want to endanger you -”

 

“- _Kaidan_.  It’s fine. That’s what secluded places and aliases are for.  We’ll just have to see where we’re at ourselves…” Rafe said softly, curling up on the couch, leaning against the back with his arm and omni-tool braced on the armrest.  “We’re still kinda hiding out in the open right now.  Miri wanted to bolt, but I managed to convince her to stay at the moment.  I need to figure this out.  Anderson’s waiting for my next report.  Last I knew, Hackett was breathing down his neck for any kind of intel.”

 

Kaidan pursed his lips but didn’t say anything.  It was still a bit of a sore point to him that Rafe had hidden his profession from him for so long, but he knew he was forgiven.  With everything going on, they both needed the shoulder to lean on.  

 

“Anyway…” he continued quietly, “That’s neither here nor there.  I suppose it doesn’t matter so much.  Kinda wish I had more to help with Aoife’s shit, but, y’know.  Probably for the best I don’t have my hands in that.”

 

The dark eyed man nodded sympathetically.

 

“Oh, uh...I saw her today.  By the way.”

 

Rafe snapped his head up.

 

“What?”

 

“Your sister.  She’s in a courts-martial right now, probably getting browbeaten again.” Kaidan sighed.  “I had to give testimony on a few things before she went in.  I hope I’ll have a chance to actually sit down and _talk_ with her, y’know?  I hate the way we left it after Horizon.  We both said some pretty awful things.  But -”    

 

Kaidan snapped his head up, brows furrowed.  Rafe sighed impatiently after a moment.

 

“But what?”

 

“Hang on…”

 

The picture faded a bit as a shadow fell over Kaidan as he looked over his shoulder.

 

“Kaid -”

 

“ _Shh_.”  

 

Rafe huffed another impatient sigh but tried to stifle it; it was a big risk for Kaidan to contact him in the middle of Alliance Command. The vid went dark momentarily and static started cutting in.

 

“Babe?”

 

“ _-kssssshhhk-_ _Rafe?  Rafe! They’re he-kssssshhhhk- an you hear me? They’re here!  Reapers - kssssshk -tack on Earth!!  Babe- ksssssssshhhhhk-”_

 

“Kaidan?”  He bolted upright, cold sweat spreading over him.  The video jumped and paused, his partner’s face distorted.  “ _Kaidan?_ ”  Static.  “MIRANDA!!” he yelled, trying to tune the signal on his omni-tool.  She appeared in the door, baffled.  The holographic interface went dead.

 

“Goodness, Rafe, what’s the problem?”

 

He frantically tried to get the call back.  Nothing.  

 

“Well?”

 

Miranda leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms.  His stomach clenched around a pit of ice.  Words stuck in his throat, thick with disbelief as he heaved himself off the couch and went over to her.

 

“...The Reapers just attacked Earth.  And Kaidan was there.”

 

Her eyes grew almost comically large as the news hit her.

 

“What?” she asked weakly.

 

“Aoife’s there, too,” he whispered.

 

“ _Shit_ …”  Miranda shoved herself off the door and disappeared back into her bedroom.  “Start packing your things.  Take everything you can think of that would leave any trace behind, and make sure you trash whatever tech we can’t take with us.”

 

He stared at her, watching her fly around the room.

 

“Don’t just stand there gawking!  We have to leave.   _Now_.”  

 

“Where are we going?”

 

That was met with an exasperated huff and a pause in her flurry of activity.

 

“To the Citadel.  They’ll need to warn the Council as soon as possible.  And I aim to be there when they do. Now _move_.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. No Bandages for Bruised Egos

**_The Renegade Angels_** , by LauraEMoriarty and potionsmaster

Rating: M 

**Chapter 4:**   _No Bandages for Bruised Egos_

 

***

 

_ Citadel 2186 _

 

The gurney wheels squeaking grated her ears as Kaidan was rushed away from the docking bay, white-coated nurses yelling at the crowd to make way.  She never felt so helpless before as she did watching her best friend and confidant being carted off in a broken, bruised heap. If it hadn’t been for James’s reckless stunt with the shuttles, she was fairly sure Kaidan would be… well, dead. They’d been bickering about her involvement with Cerberus all the way from Vancouver-- and now, she might never get the chance to apologise to him for all the horrible things she’d said. She followed the gurney, jogging to keep pace with the medical team, as they wheeled him into a service elevator, and then straight into Huerta Memorial. 

 

“Sign this,” a doctor shoved a datapad in her face, as Aoife took it from him, frowning. “It authorises us to perform surgery should they need to.”

 

“... I’m not next of kin, I’m just his commanding officer,” Aoife stammered, her guts churning with anxiety that reminded her of a concrete mixer. She scrawled her signature,  _ A.S. Malone _ and handed the data pad back to the doctor.

 

“I do apologise, ma’am, but we’ll have to ask you to stay out in the waiting area.  Immediate family only.”

 

“For  _ fuck’s _ sake…”  Aoife lost sight of the flurry of activity around Kaidan as the door swished shut mere inches from her nose.   _ Authorised Personnel Only Beyond This Point _ .   _ Authorise this, you cuntbags… _ she thought fiercely at the door, wishing she could burn straight through it with her gaze.

 

“Shepard!”

 

Heaving a sigh, she straightened her shoulders and squared her chin, shoving a wave of nausea down as she came face to face with Bailey.

 

“Shepard. The Council-- Udina in particular--want to see you in chambers. They’re being briefed by your asari cohort.” Bailey’s gravelly voice and deadpan expression gave nothing away.

 

“On my way now.” Aoife said, glad to have something else to follow up on-- she  _ hated _ the waiting game of surgery. After all, pacing up and down the hospital corridors in a state of anxiety couldn’t be that productive to Kaidan’s recovery.

 

_ If he recovers at all. _

 

Leaving the doctors without a backwards glance, she left the hospital, Bailey leading her straight to the Council Chambers. She heard Liara’s voice coming from the door, and pushed it open to see the faces of the ingrates she had sacrificed the fleets in order to save, hearing their voices in strident opposition to the plans that promised a weapon massive in size.

 

“I apologise, Commander. We had to start without you,” Liara said, as Aoife joined her on the dais.

 

Aoife waved Liara’s apology away. She hated how the Council sat on their high and mighty pedestal, sneering at any who faced them with superiority. Picking her fingernails, she looked up as Liara continued to discuss the so-called superweapon. Her guts still churned, and her eyes blazed, her barely-contained fury starting to materialise as she glowed blue-- unintentionally.

 

“Oh, that’s ok.  No reason to stand on ceremony with me; I know how these things go,” she said acidly. “I only warned you about this for the past three years.  Gods forbid a solution handed to us by the previous cycle and people we love are getting hurt.”

 

Liara reached for her, and grabbed her upper arm. Aoife shrugged her away, not wanting to be touched by anyone. 

 

“We all have those who are being affected by the attacks, Commander, or imminent attacks.  We are all acutely aware of what is at stake,” Tevos said, trying to placate her. “Your efforts as a Spectre  _ did _ help, even if you don’t see the immediate ramifications of it yet. I’m just not sure a massive weapon that we don’t even know what it’s capable of is the answer we seek.”

 

She took a deep, calming breath. Then another.  “I appreciate that you’re aware of the war being brought to our doorstep.  When you reinstated my Spectre status, that gave me hope that you knew the true threat.  What I am supremely  _ un _ happy with, however, is the blatant disregard and sheer  _ laziness _ of your response in the face of such an overwhelming fff-” she tempered herself; now was not the time to use unprofessional language, “-force.  I didn’t ask to be a Spectre again just to be swept under the rug, to be shunted off to the side! I asked for it so I would have the power to actually be able to  _ do _ some bloody thing about it!  And so far, the only thing that’s happened is being told  _ go away and leave the mummies and daddies to do the grown up thing!  _ I’m sorry, that’s not good enough any more. The entire galaxy is at stake, not just one or two planets in a distant solar system you don’t deem significant enough to send aid to. _ ” _

 

“I knew we made a mistake letting you keep your Spectre status!” Udina thundered as Tevos placed her hand on Udina’s arm. “Your blatant disregard for decorum in relation to the sanctity of this office has been apparent since day one!”

 

Aoife bit her tongue to stop what she wanted to snap back at Udina. In her view, he-- not the rest of the council-- was the problem. He had, since the day she met him, taken a dislike to her. She wasn’t sure why.

 

“Councilor Udina, you will keep your inflammatory comments out of this already volatile situation.”

 

“I will not!” Udina spluttered, turning an interesting shade of green. “You need to repri--”

  
“ **Enough!** ” Tevos’s voice held steel. “Shepard, see me in my office in an hour.”

 

Aoife nodded once, and headed out of the main chamber, down the corridor, and vanished into the seething mass of people on the Citadel. 

 

Her path led her to a small premises, boarded up against vandals. She slipped into the apparently-deserted storefront, keying in her access code as the alarms began wailing, and then silenced. Aoife took in a deep breath, and blew it out as the lights illuminated her industrial sewing machine, and bolts of fabric. She pulled a bolt of midnight blue silk out from its designated spot, along with a small selection of white embellishments, grabbed her pincushion studded with silk pins, some tailor’s chalk, and her favourite pair of scissors. She smoothed the silk out over the table, and began marking the fabric. Sewing had always soothed her, her love of fabric and creating seemed to calm her when nothing else did. She bunched the fabric on the waist of the dressform, tacking the pleats down as the shape of the dress revealed itself to her.

 

_ Fuck. I have to see Tevos _ , she thought as her omnitool pinged with a reminder. She looked at the half-finished toile of her newest design, proud with her progress so far. Packing her tools away and sweeping the floor, Aoife wished  _ this _ was her life. She waved her omnitool and the lights extinguished themselves, sighing as she shut up the premises again and glanced longingly back at the mannequins, wishing she could hide out in here until the storm had abated somewhat.

 

Her belly resumed its churning as she rounded the corner into Tevos’s office. Aoife didn’t like the anxiety that clawed its way into her brain and left her all off-kilter. It flickered and flared as she waited for the asari councilor to invite her in, all serenity she had felt in her studio vanishing into the ether.

 

“Commander Shepard,” Aoife heard Tevos’s voice, and glanced up. The asari matriarch beckoned her over, pouring a glass of clear liquid, and handed it to her. Aoife took it from her, grateful for some courtesy at last.

 

“Thank you, Councilor Tevos,” she said, sipping the water as Tevos motioned her to sit.

 

“How are you, Commander? You looked ready to-- what’s that charming phrase-- spit butter?” 

 

Aoife grinned.

 

“Spitting bullets. And honestly, I’ve been better.” Aoife had always liked Tevos-- she wasn’t quite sure why.

 

Tevos narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. “The turian councilor shall be here in a moment. He has a proposal that may get you the help you need for building this ambitious weapon.”

 

“Well, why the fuck couldn’t he say something in chambers?” Aoife asked.

 

“The salarians don’t agree with this,” the turian councilor, Sparatus, spoke as he entered the room. “The Dalatrass would be furious for suggesting this. We have a situation on Palaven, and we know you’re the best person for the job.”

 

_ And I’m back to being a tool for them to use, just like that. Fuck, think of the dress you’ve started. It’s going to be beautiful with that white clamshell embroidery…. _

 

“I’d like to go in with all the information,” Aoife said calmly. “I’m not doing something nebulous like with Saren…”

 

“The turian primarch is knee-deep in Reaper troops. We need the krogan, and we know you know the chief of the largest clan.” 

 

Aoife nodded.

 

“So, let me get this straight. You want me to get the turians and krogan to play nicely. How exactly does this get me the troops and resources Earth needs to defeat the Reapers?” A note of incredulity entered her voice.

 

“A grateful Primarch will be in your debt,” Sparatus continued, as though Aoife hadn’t sounded incredulous. “In turn, he will be open and receptive to your pleas for help building this Prothean superweapon. The krogan chief will also have conditions.”

 

“Let me guess. They want an end to the genophage?” Aoife’s eyebrows raised. “So, in order to get turian support, I have to really piss off the salarians? I’m good with that-- the only salarian I like is Mordin Solus.” 

 

“Not in so many words, but yes. That’s exactly what the krogan want.” Sparatus said, and Aoife sighed.

 

“In order to provide you the support you desperately need, I have to risk a lot, Sparatus. What exactly is in it for the Alliance and humanity’s war efforts? A vague promise of help when it’s already too late?”

 

_ First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin, as the song goes, _ she thought.  _ Or rather, that seems to be the attitude of the Reapers. _

 

“It’s up to you to decide what you want to do-- the option is there, though. We are also upholding former Councilor Anderson’s decision to reinstate you as Spectre.  Should you want it, that is,” Tevos said as Aoife glanced between the two councilors.

 

“Despite all reasons to the contrary, I believe I’ll take it. Thank you both. I’ll take it all back to Admiral Hackett, and inform him of what’s on the table.” Aoife said, her tone conciliatory.

 

She stood, saluted both councilors, and left.

 

There was probably time to swing by the hospital and see if Kaidan was out of surgery yet. The insidious demon of anxiety twisted her stomach in knots, but she pushed it out of her mind, refusing to let it get any more hooks in her than it already had. She felt like a voodoo poppet, as though someone had stuck several sharp pins through her. Aoife wished desperately that she could just go back to being the marine she had been before all the shit with Saren had begun all those years earlier-- back to being an insignificant, anonymous soldier, trying her hardest not to be killed.

 

She had never asked for all this responsibility.

 

It seemed so crushing, and now she had another task on her already full plate. Get the krogan to play nice so she could get the help she had promised-- no--  _ vowed _ she’d get for Earth. Never before had such a humongous responsibility been placed on her shoulders, and now Kaidan wouldn’t be there, all because of a fucking robot the Illusive Man had sicced on him.

 

Aoife turned the corner, and she heard the pleading sound of a man she’d known well. 

 

“Please, I’m desperate…”

 

_ Dominic. _

 

Wishing she could simply avoid him, Aoife spotted Khalisah al-Jilani with her camera bot hovering above her. 

 

_ Shit. Shitting shit shit. No way out of this, unless I… _

 

“Commander?” A salarian approached her, and Aoife groaned.

 

_ What now? I’m already feeling like the most underpaid administrative assistant to the galaxy, or Harry Potter under the Dursleys thumb-- either that, or Cinderella... _

 

“Yes?” Aoife said, politeness warring with the urge to tell everyone to go fuck themselves with rusty implements.

 

“Jondum Bau. Special tactics and reconnaissance,” the salarian spoke, and Aoife nodded politely.

 

“What can I do for you, Bau?” Aoife asked.

 

The conversation took an interesting turn when Bau mentioned an old friend of hers. Kasumi. She agreed to look into the matter further, and then beating a hasty path past the reporter and the desperate ambassador, took the elevator to Purgatory, remembering that James had said he’d be there.

 

“I’m sorry, you and your thugs are on the Citadel illegally,” the human immigrations officer seemed to be having an argument with an asari.

 

Ignoring them, too, Aoife pushed her way through the crowd to the bar, and found James there, leaning against the top, and smiled.

 

“Hey.” She said, sidling up to him and slinging her arm casually around his shoulder.

 

“Effie,” James greeted, his arm resting comfortably against her waist. She leaned her head against James’s shoulder. They broke apart a moment later, as they remembered where they were, and she sighed.

 

_ Why the fuck can’t anything be simple? _ She wondered, turning to the bar and ordering two shots of top-shelf rum.

 

She slid the second shot across to James when the barman poured it, and they clinked their shot glasses together before downing them, the smooth caramel flavours from the molasses and oak barrels warming her esophagus as it slid down, coming to rest in a warm pool in her belly. This was clearly the good, human rum.

 

“See those soldiers over there?” James asked, nodding his head in the direction of the cluster of BDU-clad men and women huddled together at the end of the bar.

 

“Yeah. They’re Alliance, right?” Aoife ran a hand through her hair.

 

“They’ve been buying me drinks all night.” James said, as he slid his arm back around her waist, and Aoife leaned in, nodding.

 

“Why?” she asked, glancing up at him.

 

“‘Cause of you. They asked what ship I came in on, and they wouldn’t let me buy myself a drink when I told them I was on the  _ Normandy _ ,” James answered, and Aoife nodded, a tad confused.

 

“I’m just a soldier, like them,” she said, the confusion in her voice apparent as James looked at her, raising his eyebrows.

 

“To them, you’re not. You’re the Hero of the Blitz, first human Spectre, saving the galaxy and all that.”

 

“I’m not sure I like that,” Aoife frowned. “I’m human, just like them.”

 

“Nah. You’re one of the immortals of the Alliance to those guys,” James continued. “They don’t know you like I do-- but if you want to prove you’re human, buy them a drink.”

 

Aoife looked dubiously up at him, her eyebrows raised, searching his face. “Alright.” She motioned to the bartender, pulled out her credit chit, and paid for a round of decent rum.

 

“Hey!” James cupped his hand around his mouth as he called out to the cluster around them. “The Commander wants you to have a drink-- on her!”

 

The small crowd of soldiers clustered around the other end of the bar looked up at James’s shout, and then at Aoife, some of them doing a double-take when they saw her.

 

“Who’s like us?” James called as they all raised their shots in unison.

 

“Damn few, and they’re all dead!” Aoife found herself echoing the others, and drank her rum as the others downed their shots. Afterwards, the marines clustered around her, like so many ravenous goats, wanting to be a part of her unwanted limelight.

 

“What was it like, facing down Saren?” one of them asked, and Aoife mentally cringed.

 

_ Facing down Saren, really? Are they gonna ask me about fucking Mindoir next? I never know what to say in these moments… _

 

“Fucking terrifying,” the words came out of her mouth, and she froze in horror.

 

_ Oh fuck, fuck, fucking fuck fuck. Open mouth, insert both feet, and run away.  _ **_Now._ **

 

“Um… I should probably go,” she whispered to James, who shook his head minutely. “I’ve just made a complete dog’s breakfast of this.”

 

James held her gaze, and Aoife relaxed slightly. “You haven’t,” he told her, squeezing her shoulder gently.

 

“I really shouldn’t have said it was fucking terrifying,” she whispered again, feeling as though all the young marines were staring at her.

 

“You were honest,” James shrugged. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

 

“Still. When they’ve got me on this impossible and immortal pedestal, I don’t like it. I think I’m gonna go hide in the nearest bathroom now,” she made to leave, but James put his hand on her arm, and she paused. She looked up into his eyes, and he gave her an encouraging smile. Fucking anxiety.

 

“You’ve got this,” James said, and Aoife nodded. “Really. You do. Hey, if you want to check in on the major, I’ll meet you back at the  _ Normandy _ .”

 

“I think I should,” Aoife agreed, and, with the rum in her belly giving her a tiny bit more courage, she turned and left the bar, glancing backwards at Aria T’Loak on the couch, and ignoring her.

 

She palmed the elevator door, pressing the button for Huerta Memorial Hospital. The short ride had given her a moment to reassess her feelings, and she stepped out of the elevator, hearing the argument between reception staff and an outraged human over the name of the hospital. Ignoring them, she stopped at the gift kiosk, purchasing a medigel upgrade and a bottle of Canadian whiskey for Kaidan

 

“So Doc...” Aoife asked, as the short redhead dressed in Alliance fatigues came out of the room. “What’s his prognosis?” She read the doctor’s name tag: Nellie Nevell.

 

“His implant got rattled, and it was touch and go in the OR. But he’s sleeping now. Proper sleep, not sedation.” Nellie said, as Aoife nodded.

 

“I’m glad to hear he came out of surgery fine,” Aoife said, as Nellie indicated that she could go in and see him.

 

The doctor left, giving Aoife her omni-tool address, and with a wave, returned to her rounds. Aoife entered Kaidan’s room, and sat beside his bed, taking his limp hand in hers. She squeezed it gently, before sighing.

 

“Get better soon, Kaid. I’m so sorry we fought about Cerberus, and I miss you.” She laid her head in her arms, and closed her eyes for a second.

 

_ “Commander? Effie? _ ” James’s voice sounded close to her ear as he shook her. “C’mon, let’s get back to the  _ Normandy _ .”

 

Aoife opened her eyes, and saw that the night cycle had started. Rubbing her eyes, she stood, yawning. “I meant to close my eyes for only a second,” she said, stretching her arms out wide and pulling them closely in. Her hands went to the base of her neck, elbows pointed outwardly as she stretched once more. God, she felt stiff all over.

 

“It’s been a big coupla days,” James said, and Aoife nodded.

 

“And I have a turian primarch to collect tomorrow,” she said.

 

They walked out of the hospital, talking quietly as they made their way back to the ship. It had been a long time since Aoife had just been free like this, and she relished it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. A Full Dance Card

**_The Renegade Angels_** , by LauraEMoriarty and potionsmaster

Rating: M 

 **Chapter 5:**   _A Full Dance Card_

 

***

 

_SSV Normandy, 2186_

 

_ Oh for fuck’s sake _ , Aoife thought, the tendrils of a headache spreading across her forehead, an iron band constricting her brain. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she glanced between Adrien Victus and Urdnot Wrex, hearing their frantic debate on the subject of a cure for the genophage.  _ I really don’t have time to prevent this war from starting, yet here I am, playing peacemaker. Although, I suppose it’s better being a peacemaker than a cheesemaker. _

“My people have suffered enough, Primarch,” Aoife heard Wrex grumble at the turian. “If you want krogan boots on Palaven, you  _ must _ agree to this condition!”

“And we will, Wrex,” Primarch Victus’s voice sounded weary to Aoife’s ears. 

Retrieving Victus for the summit had been a mess. The only good thing about Menae had been picking up Garrus, and even that had presented problems. It had also led to an amusing exchange between Garrus and James, something about fish and barrels and Garrus’s misunderstanding of the phrase. She glanced down, smiling at that memory, and then turned to look at both Wrex and Primarch Victus. Things seemed to be going okay-- given that Wrex hadn’t tried to kill the primarch, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before threads gave way and snapped entirely.

The salarian dalatrass, as Aoife and Tevos had predicted, had wanted absolutely  _ nothing _ to do with this summit, and Aoife had bitten back the retorts she’d wanted to give. Fucking salarians. Typical of them to deny help when it would be gladly returned, should they ask for it. She made a mental note to swing by the medbay after this, as her head throbbed and rolling her neck did nothing to abate it. She just wished everyone in the galaxy would get the damn point that the Reapers were a threat  _ everywhere _ . It wouldn’t feel so much like she’d been the girl who cried wolf-- except they’d  _ finally _ taken her seriously when the first planets had been hit. 

The Alpha Relay incident had only bought the galaxy time. Clearly not enough of it, either. 

Annoyance warred with disappointment as she thought of the time she could’ve spent fighting this war on the battlefield, not playing diplomat. Squandered time, when she could be on Earth, making a difference. She shook her head at herself and sighed; there wasn’t truly anything she could do on Earth-- down there, she’d just be another nameless soldier, following orders and running from foxhole to foxhole. It was better up here-- better than the hell that waited for all of them.

“Wrex, we’ll get the krogan females, don’t worry,” Aoife said, as she followed the conversation between Wrex and Victus. It had gone from Wrex demanding a cure for the genophage to the logistics of how and where the krogan females were being kept. “I just hope the salarians won’t kill us on sight-- they’re not fond of me, even if I do like Mordin and Kirrahe.”

“Good,” Wrex’s deep voice rumbled. “I need to talk to you. In  _ private _ .” He shot the primarch a wary look that Aoife interpreted as caution.

“So do I, Commander,” the milder turian voice echoed, and Aoife resisted the urge to roll her eyes and wonder why suddenly, they both wanted private audiences with her.

”Very well. Wrex, I have a spare half-hour if you want to schedule it for the night cycle. Primarch, the same for you.” Aoife said, courteously. “Meanwhile, I’m going to get a coffee on the Crew Deck, and then head to Grissom Academy-- they’re requesting an evac.” 

She nodded curtly to both of them as she met their eyes, before turning and walking through the mess aboard the ship, and made a note to speak with the maintenance crew about tidying things up. There really was no excuse for things to remain as they were-- trip hazards were abundant, and even if the retrofits hadn’t been completed, they needed to be squared away. She’d have a chat to Joker about that-- given he was her XO as well as her pilot. Sighing, Aoife began her walk to the elevator, a million thoughts on her mind.

Her omnitool pinged as a message arrived. 

Kaidan.

_ Ugh. I can’t right now, _ she thought as she glanced down at the message which stated he wanted to see her when she was next on the Citadel. They had to get to Grissom Academy, and figure out what was actually going on there.

She got her coffee and painkillers, and sent a message to James and Garrus to suit up, before heading down to the shuttle bay, coffee and datapad still in her hand. She paused as she exited the elevator, taking in the neat order of the shuttle bay, glad to see that at least one part of her ship still maintained some illusion of order. To her right, the shuttle looked better than it had done after James crashed it on Mars. To her left, the armory and equipment lockers were neat and orderly. She dropped her empty coffee mug in a repository that took it back to the galley, and began suiting up, pulling on her greaves, her breastplate, and her gloves. James came behind her, checking that her armour was sealed properly, and she did the same for him and Garrus.

Once in the shuttle, Aoife spoke for the first time since she’d left the war room, aside from the perfunctory ‘thanks’ for the checking. “We’re headed to Grissom Academy, where there’s an SOS, and Specialist Traynor has detected a false flag. I don’t know what to expect when we get there, but an educated guess and my gut say something else is behind this,” she said softly, her voice carrying in the shuttle.

Aoife missed Kaidan and his easy company. While there'd never been any romantic feelings between them, she missed having him on her six; it hadn't been the same when she'd had to rely on Thane, Grunt, or Miranda during her indentured servitude with Cerberus. 

“So,  what's the story with you and the major?” James asked, and Garrus chuckled. 

“I recall scuttlebutt on the SR-1 that implied that the two of you were uh,  _ blowing off steam _ , turian-style,” Garrus’s voice held wry amusement in it.

Aoife chuckled wryly. “Nah. He was involved with someone else at the time. Ash actually called us out for breaking frat regs, but we set her straight. He was my best friend, and confidant.” Her voice became quiet at that. “He knew, and still knows, stuff about me that nobody else ever did. But after I came back from the dead, I tried to get word to him that I was alive, cause he deserved to hear it from the horse’s mouth, but...my messages went unanswered.  And then Horizon happened...”

Her voice broke off as she remembered seeing him, and the expression on his face at the realisation that she was not only alive, but in Cerberus colours.

“He outright accused her of faking her death and defecting to Cerberus,” Garrus cheerily supplied, as Aoife buried her face in her hands, recalling his harsh words. “It was all crap, of course, but he said some pretty nasty things to her.”

“Yeah. He did.” Aoife agreed. “And it was really shitty of him, cause I needed him to understand-- he threw my friendship in my face and walked away. He'd been the one person I was actually looking forwards to seeing after I woke up on Lazarus station, but…” her voice trailed off, remembering those first hellish months following her resurrection.

Kaidan had followed her once, mutinied with her against the Alliance and went on a suicide mission to Ilos, and then she'd died over Alchera. 

It seemed that dying and coming back to life had fucked up the natural order of things. Like a giant scale had tipped over too far, upsetting the precarious balance of the galaxy. Why had they picked her, when there were soldiers with far greater combat experience and leadership ability; why  _ her  _ in particular? She'd never get an answer to that question, but it plagued her.

“Grissom Academy is in sight,” Aoife heard Steve Cortez’s voice over the intercom, and glanced over at Garrus and James, mentally steeling herself for the battle. After what she'd seen on Mars, she knew Cerberus troops would be swarming the academy, impervious to the usual tactics. She pulled her shotgun from the holster as she stood, leaning her head against her arm as she held on with the other hand. 

“We know Cerberus has gone full Voldemort and Death Eaters here, and done it so successfully that they’re absolute monsters. We will  _ not  _ allow them to turn these kids into more science experiments,” she said, forcing the determination into her voice. Aoife really hoped they weren’t too late, that Cerberus hadn’t overrun the school and taken the students.She thought of BaAT and what had happened to Kaidan, and then what had happened to Jack as Subject Zero. The two scenarios made her stomach clench in worry.

“Voldemort?” Garrus sounded confused.

“Yeah. From my favourite series of books. The big bad is called Voldemort, and like the Illusive Man, had a pretty fucked up agenda,” Aoife explained. 

The station loomed large on the display as Cortez initiated docking procedures. Aoife’s eyes were immediately drawn to the large number of Cerberus shuttles in the same vicinity, and she sighed. Cerberus weren’t going to make this easy on them. But then, when had they ever? 

After their shuttle docked, Aoife checked the heat sinks on her assault rifle and shotgun before stepping out into the chaos. She saw the telltale marks of Cerberus all over the walls and doors: bullet holes and the smell of burned metal. The stench of death and piss pervaded, the sharpness of eezo and clean air all but obliterated in the foyer of the John Grissom Academy. Scorch marks on the walls, but no sign of the students.  Her heart sank as she heard the familiar sound of the rattling bullets against the walls, and automated turrets. For an organisation that supposedly prized humanity’s place in the galaxy above all else, they sure didn’t appear to have their best interests at heart.

“Commander, is that you?” A distinctive feminine voice rang out over an Alliance chanel. “I’m Kahlee Sanders, I’ve locked myself in an office to your left.”

“Affirmative,” Aoife answered. “How many students are here?”

“Only a handful. When the war started, most of them went back to their families,” Kahlee said, as Aoife took down a centurion. “The ones who stayed wanted to help.”

Aoife sent a trooper flying, charging him with a biotic blast of power that left the air visible around her. In the chaos of battle, she worked best-- the dreaded tattoo of war and the chorus of screaming dying soldiers thrumming through her as she worked. Keeping an eye on Garrus and James, and marking how well they worked together, in a terrible synchronicity that came with battle. Her biotics thrummed on her skin, and James threw incendiary grenades at the turrets, popping back into cover as the mechanics exploded, and Garrus picked off the troopers on the upper level with mechanical precision.

“I’ll fucking de _ stroy _ you!” A familiar voice shouted over the sound of battle, and Aoife glanced up, watching momentarily as the woman gathered up a punch of biotic energy, and let loose.

Jack.

Aoife’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the powerful biotic slam several Cerberus troopers into the ground. She was distracted as another trooper pulled a turret off their back, and began setting up. She used her biotics to throw the engineer, and then finished him with a messy headshot. As the battle wore on, she lost count of how much medigel she’d used, and how many times the cry of  _ I will destroy you!  _ had been heard above the din.

Fast and furious, with consummate skill, Garrus and James worked in tandem, their faces grim and eyes blazing. Aoife concentrated on taking down the hulking Atlas, shattering the canopy, and taking out the operator. The battle wore on.

 

***  
_  
_

“I'm glad we got the students out,” Aoife sighed, resting her cup of coffee on the ammo crate behind her. “And thank whatever gods you worship for Jack.” Her lips curved into a smile. “Half the kids woulda been goners if not for her.”

The peace in the shuttle bay relaxed her. Down here, she didn't have to play referee and peacemaker. There were no urgent tasks to attend, nor anyone asking her for a million favours that she couldn't do anything about just yet. The shuttle bay had gradually become her safe haven, a refuge for her when her cabin became too silent and empty. 

Drawing her legs up under her chin, she watched as James went through a set of reps.

“Yeah. I'm glad they got out safe too. But Effie, sending those kids into combat-- I'm not sure it's the right decision,” James said, pulling himself up and then down one final time. 

“What other choice did I have? They said they were ready for it, and you saw them in action. They  _ wanted _ the opportunity-- I didn’t see anything in their files that indicated that any of them weren’t combat ready.” She sighed, knowing that he was right. 

If Earth wasn’t so desperate for troops, and in need of biotic forces to bolster the front lines, she would've told them to stick to support roles. But this was war-- arguably the most important war ever fought in her lifetime--and they needed all the soldiers they could get. The Reapers weren’t going to be defeated by conventional means, as the failure of the Protheans had demonstrated. These were the early days, the days where every system fought or was annihilated, entire systems blinking out of existence in mere seconds. This war was hell-- far more realistic than those she had studied at school. The casualties of this one were staggering on a galactic scale.

“You could’ve assigned them to support roles-- reinforcing troops biotic shields, sending them  _ anywhere  _ but the front lines,” James continued, as he moved to sit beside her on the floor.

“And what use would that be, when our troops are dying even as we squabble. We have krogan females to rescue from Sur’Kesh, and they won’t lend their support unless the genophage is cured. We have nobody to rely on without those kids on the front line. I don’t think you fully grasp that,” Aoife snapped. God, she was sick of the war, and it’d really only just begun.

“I’m just saying,” James said, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

She pulled away from his touch. “When Mindoir was raided by the batarians, nobody came until it was too late. I refuse to let that happen a second time. I  _ refuse _ to allow the Reapers the chance for fresh troops harvested from our dead.” 

The memories of that day still haunted her. The screams as the barns were set ablaze, the wild whinnying of terrified horses as they bashed futilely against their box stalls. The screams of humans mingled with those of the horses, the smell of smoke and blood, of dust and straw, the general detritus of animal waste and burning flesh. Her twin being dragged away by raiders; Rafe telling her to stay put while he went to find their father’s guns. She remembered too vividly the feeling of helplessness, her other half, her  _ brother _ gone.  Mostly, she remembered the fear-- and how it had clawed away at her sanity, chipping it in a steady rhythm until she was sure she’d hallucinated. Her hands clenched into fists, terrified and alone.

James didn’t get it. He didn’t understand what it was like to be the last man standing, he  _ couldn’t  _ understand it. How could anyone understand the sheer terror of being the last person alive in a once-thriving, vibrant colony unless they had been through it themselves.

“I do understand, actually,” James said quietly, and Aoife jerked her head up as she heard him. 

_ Fuck. _

“Oh yeah?” Aoife said, trying to pull herself together as the memories pushed, unwelcome, into the forefront of her mind.

“You’ve read my file, know my service history,” James shrugged.

“Actually, I haven't. Remember why you even met me? I destroyed Aratoht.  I was branded a criminal,” Aoife said. Standing, she drew herself up to her full height, and looked him in the eye. “I was facing the very real possibility of jail-- angry batarians wanted me dead, so, no, I don’t actually know your service history.” She gave a harsh bark of laughter.

“In that case, care to dance, Lola?” He extended his hand to her. 

“Dance? You know I’m hopeless,” Aoife protested, stumbling forwards into James’s arms. She froze, realising they hadn’t been this close since the morning the war started, when she’d almost kissed him.

James chuckled, and shook his head. “That wasn't the kind of dancing I had in mind.”

He moved back, his fists at the ready. Aoife smiled and put her own hands up, dancing backwards as James jabbed at her. She parried, ducking low as she swept out with one of her legs. He evaded her sweeping kick, and followed up with a jab that she evaded.

“Oh yeah?” Aoife replied, aiming a blow towards his head. He ducked out of the way, and threw a punch in her direction.  She avoided it, weaving out of the way.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Never thought I’d say this, but you remind me of my old CO, Captain Toni.”

“Tough? Or a woman?” Aoife teased.

“He was a hardass son of a bitch,,” James replied, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Was?” Aoife aimed another blow, and James met it, turning it on her.

“He died on Fehl Prime, along with the rest of my squad,” James said, delivering an uppercut as Aoife danced out of his range.

_ Fuck, Fehl Prime. Anderson did mention something about that in our weekly check-ins.  _

“That’s rough. Wanna talk about it? I know bits and pieces of it, like the fact that you were forced to make an absolutely dreadful choice-- but I don’t know the specifics.” Aoife said, coming in close to jab at him once more.

“You’d know a thing or two about bad choices,” James agreed.

“Ya think?” Aoife smiled, “I mean, we  _ met _ because of a bad choice.”

“Anyway, Fehl Prime. I don’t usually talk about it, but you’re probably the one person who’d understand what I did,” James continued, as they continued their sparring.

“Talk, if you’re up for it. I don't wanna force you if you’re not ready.” Aoife said, as they continued the ‘dance’.

“We were sent to protect a civilian colony from a Collector attack. Most of my squad was killed when I had to make a choice between intel and saving the colony.”

Aoife moved in for the kill, sweeping her legs out and catching James’s between her own. “Tough call,” she empathised with a grunt from the effort.

“Best part was-- I didn’t need the info in the end,” James said, puffing. “Cause you were out there, taking down the entire Collector homeworld.”

“You can’t blame yourself.” Aoife delivered an uppercut.

“Who says I’m blaming myself?” James asked.

“ _ I _ do. That stunt on Mars was fucking reckless.” Aoife snapped. “I think you don’t give a shit about what happens to you, and you’re lucky to be alive after that. It could’ve gone really badly, and then I’d have  _ two _ soldiers in Huerta, and not on my ship when I could do with both of you.”

“Maybe I’m just willing to do whatever the fuck it takes to end this goddamn war!” 

Aoife huffed and took advantage of his temporary anger to deliver one final blow.

“If you’re half the soldier I  _ know  _ you are, I need you alive, not lying dead on some battlefield and Reaperfied.” She used her momentum to throw him.

“I’m that important to you?” James asked as Aoife nodded.

“Yeah, you are. Who else would put up with me breaking their nose a few times-- which I’m still  _ really _ sorry about.”

“Yeah, yeah… You win this one, Lola,” James grumbled, as he got to his feet. “Thanks for the dance.”

Aoife smiled. “I’ve never asked you why you call me Lola-- not that I mind, but I  _ am _ curious.”

James shrugged. “You know how sometimes, a person’s name doesn’t fit them? You look like a Lola.”

“Why Lola? Why not Effie?”

“When I was growing up, there was this hot older sister in the neighbourhood that was called Lola, she was tough and, I don’t know, you kinda remind me of her,” James gave a nonchalant shrug.

“So you think I’m hot, huh? I must remember that for next time,” Aoife winked. “You’re cute, so you get away with it…”

They stood together for a moment, shoulder to shoulder. Aoife slipped her arm around James’s waist, and he drew her close. The quiet hum of the drive core the only sound in the otherwise silent shuttle bay. She leaned her head against his shoulder, content for just this moment, to stand with him and think of what was to come.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
